


To Be Alright

by EclecticRegard



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Barba is there to help, Barisi - Freeform, Brief reference to canon typical heinous crimes, Carisi has trouble recovering from his undercover work, Episode Related, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Relationship, S 17 ep 19 follow-up, barba/carisi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticRegard/pseuds/EclecticRegard
Summary: Immediately following Season 17 Episode 19 where Carisi goes undercover as a sex offender. Barba helps him deal with his emotions afterwards, and a relationship blossoms."The way they looked at me after, like they understood, like we were connected, made me sick to my stomach. And I know it takes time to adjust to this unit, I get that -- I mean, this is some heavy shit we deal with every day -- but I've never looked at my own reflection and hated what I saw until now, man."
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	To Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread myself. Any mistakes are mine.

Being undercover had taken a toll on Carisi, that much was certain. The sole act of being undercover wasn't necessarily the hardest part, but having to pretend that he liked children just to get into the good graces of the sex offenders at the shelter had been. Making up the details had been awful enough, never mind having to talk about them like they were his own real desires. In the weeks following the end of the case and the conviction of Tom Zimmerman, Carisi smiled less and, when he did, the smile never reached his eyes. It was a put on smile, fake as anything, attempting to convince whoever asked that he was okay. That he didn't have trouble sleeping at night, that he wasn't lacking an appetite, that he didn't look at himself in the mirror when his hair hadn't yet been groomed for the day and see "Smitty" admitting that he got a thrill from the pictures on his computer.

Still, life was moving on and, with it, so did everyone else. Well, most everyone. The rest of the squad had been at it far longer than Carisi and had since learned to compartmentalize in order to deal with the daily difficulties they faced. Yes, they were still affected by the cases they worked -- any one of them would quit the moment that stopped being true, -- but they had to give Carisi the time to adjust on his own. They couldn't force him to bounce back to his usual self and, honestly, as long as his other cases didn't suffer, they couldn't afford to let him devote much time to it during work hours. It was better dealt with outside of the squad room anyways, over the occasional drink with everyone or over dinner with Rollins, talking about anything but what was bothering him as he played with Jesse. And that couldn't happen as often as he'd like -- not with everyone having a life outside of work, not when they worked such crazy hours, and not when most of them had little kids around that meant they couldn't speak with candor anyhow -- but it always helped when they could spare the time and energy for his benefit. Unfortunately, those opportunities were becoming fewer and fewer

The only person that seemed to personally have a real issue with Carisi's lack of improvement was Barba.

He was understanding of the fact that the man needed time, of course. Time was essential to recover from such a trauma (and whether Carisi wanted to admit it or not, it was a trauma). But that didn't mean all of Carisi's friends needed to abandon him so he could figure things out on his own, not when the usually cheerful man had become anything but.

It wasn't until Barba started noticing other signs of just how not okay Carisi was that he decided something had to be done. Not smiling was enough, as far as Barba was concerned. Then came the lack of sharing his personal life, of sharing his joy whenever he realized another person was feeling low. He didn't really ask after anybody to see if there was anything he could help with anymore.

And how could Carisi when he obviously didn't even know how to fix himself?

Gone were the days, it seemed, when he would eagerly rush to Barba or Benson with something he thought would be helpful to a case. Since word traveled and Barba heard he'd passed the bar, he had assumed his work days would be filled with even more 'help,' but by that point the damage from Carisi's time undercover had been done and Barba was hardly visited in his office anymore. When he did come to his office, Carisi made a point of checking in with his secretary over the phone first, rather than simply coming whenever he felt like it, and when Barba saw him in the squad room it was all professionalism and forced pleasantries when they weren't immediately discussing a case. It couldn't be allowed to go on, not when Barba felt like the world was being robbed of the real Sonny Carisi.

He just needed to get through to the man. Offering his undying personal support wasn't something Barba was overly familiar with, but he hoped that even with what promised to be his most pathetic, botched attempt, it would still be met with even a modicum of appreciation and willingness to meet Barba halfway.

If only Barba could get Sonny to do more than work in the squad room and go home to mope.

\---

The end of another long case found Carisi finishing up a report with a perpetual smile that almost seemed to haunt his features. Another tough case -- ending in a "he said, she said" with no clear indication of who was guilty -- that left a sour taste in everyone's mouths. Regardless, everybody had finished up their work for the day and gone home (to their families, the bottom of a bottle, whatever), leaving Carisi alone with his thoughts and his excuse of needing to do paperwork. Rollins had mentioned, almost insisted, that the paperwork could wait until morning, but he'd dismissed her suggestion with the excuse that he could do a better job of it if he wrote it while the information was still fresh in his mind. It was a lie and she knew it, judging by the expression on her face. She had looked like she wanted to say something, but then she seemed to think better of it and simply left. That was fine by Carisi. It was much easier to pretend things were alright if the others just went along with his bullshit lies.

He didn’t want to go home because truth be told, he didn't want to be alone with nothing to do. When there was nothing for him to do, his was drawn to precisely what he didn't want to dwell on. If he had his work or anything else to preoccupy him, he didn't have to acknowledge what was bothering him.

That was the idea, at least.

While he was deep in thought, nearly hyper focused on his work as he very pointedly did not think about anything else, Barba walked back into the squad room. He strode in with purpose, as usual, and quickly scanned the room until his eyes settled on his target. As he drew closer to Carisi's desk, it was clear that the man hadn't even noticed he had a visitor. His fingers were flying rapidly across his keyboard and his eyes were nearly squinting with the attention he was paying his screen. Barba moved to stand directly before him and barely suppressed a huff when he still went unnoticed.

With a quick cough to clear his throat, he asked, "Do detectives usually work this late, or is it just you?"

Carisi's eyebrows rose impossibly high on his forehead as he was startled from his work. His eyes found Barba and, the moment they settled on his face, he smiled.

Barba would have preened, if only the smile weren't so haggard.

"Nah, just me," Carisi replied, his usual timbre marred with atypical roughness usually reserved for the sleep deprived. It was hard to tell with him anymore; whether he slept or not, he was hardly ever in a good mood. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and continued, "What brings you back here, counselor? I thought the Lieu already went over everything with you."

Barba nodded in response, a slight shrug raising his shoulders. "Yes, she did. I came back because I had the distinct feeling that you'd still be here, and here you are. Color me surprised," he added dryly.

Carisi chuckled. "I'm getting predictable, I guess."

"You are," Barba agreed. "And that is why you will now do something unpredictable and leave your work for tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Because I'm taking you out for a drink," he said simply. He watched as the wheels turned in Carisi's head. Clearly, he wanted to decline, to use one of his excuses to at least postpone, but the expression on Barba's face left no room for argument. Satisfaction rose in Barba's chest as he watched Carisi save his document and shut off his computer in compliance, but not without a scoff. By the time he stood and shrugged his coat on, Barba was smirking.

"C'mon, I'm buying."

Barba let out a soft laugh when he heard Carisi mutter under his breath, "You're damn _right_ you're buying..."

They took a cab to the bar, a dark, quiet, out-of-the-way place where they'd be less likely to run into somebody they would know (cop bars were fine, but when one was trying to escape reminders of the job, they did very little to help). The ride was spent in near silence, save for the directions to their driver, and by the time they'd walked in and settled into a booth in the corner, Carisi was almost vibrating with energy.

"Doing alright over there, detective?" Barba asked with a quirked brow once they'd placed their orders.

Carisi, having just scanned the area with something unreadable in his eyes, glanced back across the table at him. "Huh?"

Barba sighed. "Nothing."

"No, sorry," he waved a hand. "Haven't even been here five minutes and I'm already bad company."

"I wouldn't say that. You're clearly distracted, is all."

Carisi looked sheepish at that. "Sorry. I guess I just didn't expect to find myself out tonight, least of all with you."

"Consider yourself blessed." Barba smiled, warmed when Carisi's responding smile seemed genuine this time. "You looked like you could use the honor of my presence."

"Well, I appreciate it," he said sincerely. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to cut himself off when the waitress brought their drink orders. He reached for his Scotch -- Barba's recommendation, when it seemed at first that Carisi would be content drinking cheap beer -- and raised the glass. With a quick nod in Barba's direction, he took a healthy sip and set the glass back down.

\---

They were four drinks in when it seemed they had discussed every meaningless, irrelevant thing under the sun. The buzz of the alcohol had considerably warmed them and brought a bright red hue to Carisi's cheeks. He appeared much more at ease than he'd been in the last few weeks -- they both did, if the amount of chuckling and joking they'd done since their second drink were any indication. The drinks went quickly at first, but now they were nursing the fourth, not quite wanting to pass the threshold from buzzed to drunk. It'd be much easier to get home and recover, so long as they managed that.

Even in his buzzed state of mind, Carisi was carefully steering the conversation toward inconsequential topics, such as sports and funny anecdotes from school. He was good, too. Even Barba had to admit that, if he didn't have his own ulterior motive, he would be completely unaware of just how much they weren't discussing. If it wasn't important, he could have flat out ignored it, but he found himself incapable to forgetting the point he'd been so desperate to have the opportunity to broach.

Now, in a moment of quiet, seemed as good a time as any.

"Do you want to talk about what's been bothering you, or are you going to continue to fake this whole happy act?" Barba met Carisi's wide eyed stare with an even gaze. "Because you're not very good at it."

Carisi looked away after a moment and took another sip of his drink. "Don't know what you're talking about."

He scoffed. "Didn't I just say you're a bad liar? Maybe you should stop drinking; you'll have a better chance of upping your game."

"There's nothing bothering me."

"Right.” Barba rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. Who did Carisi think he was trying to fool? He licked his lips, studying the man contemplatively. "Look, I can't make you talk. I just thought I'd offer. People do better when they know they're supported, or so I'm told."

Carisi looked back at him with something -- was that irritation? -- in his eyes. "Thanks. But I'm supported just fine, alright?"

"So you've found somebody to talk to about the Zimmerman case."

He nearly choked on his drink when he went to take another sip. "How did you--"

"I'd have to be blind to not notice it was that case that changed you, Carisi," he said softly. The gentleness of his voice made Carisi pause. They sat there and stared at one another in silence for several minutes, Carisi contemplating and Barba hoping he would take the chance to get everything -- anything -- off his chest.

Eventually, after what seemed like a quiet eternity as the world continued to spin around them, Carisi swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" Barba echoed softly.

"Yeah, okay." Carisi downed the remainder of his drink. He glanced at Barba again, as though he was waiting for a shout of “just kidding!” to save him from having to say anything. When the other man remained patiently silent, Carisi sighed and averted his gaze. “So it's still bothering me."

Barba nodded, waiting for Carisi to share whatever other information he might feel comfortable divulging. Temporary relief washed over him when Carisi waved off the waitress as she started to stop by to ask about another drink for him. At least he saw this as serious enough that he needed to have some of his wits about him.

"I just, y'know, I've been undercover before. Comes with the territory. But," he made a face, "having to pretend I was one of those--those guys, that I got turned on by kiddie pictures? I never had to do anything like that before. The way they looked at me after, like they understood, like we were _connected_ , made me sick to my stomach. And I know it takes time to adjust to this unit, I get that -- I mean, this is some heavy shit we deal with every day -- but I've never looked at my own reflection and hated what I saw until now, man."

Carisi startled when a hand reached out and awkwardly patted his own.

"You know," Barba began, carefully choosing his words, "you don't have to be okay. Frankly, I'd be more worried if you were. It means you're good at what you do. You're gonna make it here, Sonny."

Carisi felt his chest blossom with warmth. His smile was small, more shy than usual as he asked, "... Sonny?"

Barba rolled his eyes, embarrassment pinking his cheeks. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Sounds weird coming from you, though."

"Yes, well. First times are often awkward, detective."

Carisi laughed. For the first time in weeks, it sounded truly amused, not at all that forced nonsense he'd been trying to pass off since the case. After a few beats, Barba found he was smiling in spite of himself.

When the laughter died down, Barba pressed on. "You'll be alright," he promised.

"So long as I've got support, right?"

"Yes."

"And I have yours, counselor?" Carisi asked, sounding hopeful.

It was Barba's turn to down the remainder of his drink in one swallow. "I-- Yes, you do, Sonny."

The beaming smile he earned in reply made the entire night worth it. It was a real, honest-to-god, one hundred percent Sonny Carisi grin. "Then I guess I _will_ be alright."

\---

After their spontaneous casual evening at the bar, Carisi's overall mood seemed to have dramatically improved. He remained a little reserved at work, still ironing out how to compartmentalize so that he could do his job effectively when on the clock and leave his healing to strictly off the clock hours, but it was a vast improvement from the numb husk of a man he had become. He and Barba had stayed at the bar that night until closing; the other man had stayed true to his word that he would support Carisi and so they spent the rest of that night with Carisi venting and Barba offering his ear. That, more than anything else, was the biggest help. It was downright difficult, nearly impossible, to find somebody that one didn't have to pay in order to just _listen_. Well-meaning people, like his family and colleagues, would offer to listen, of course, but then came the unnecessary advise and the feeling of judgement for feeling the way he did. It always made sharing more difficult. With Barba, however... he hadn't felt that way. Barba didn't offered a single word of advice as to what Carisi should or shouldn't do as a result of his feelings and his struggle. He'd simply nodded, actually listened, and let the man get out what he wanted to get out. At the end of that night (morning, really), after they had been kicked out of the bar upon its closing, Barba did something that blew Carisi's mind. He _thanked_ him for opening up to him. That had taken him completely by surprise and, yet, it made him feel even lighter than before. The man that helped him shoulder the burden of his thoughts and feelings about the undercover case had done more for Carisi that he'd probably realized, although maybe the dopey grin on Carisi's face had given him away. 

Things went back to normal between the two of them. The slight reprieve Barba had had from Carisi's unannounced visits was over, but they weren't all strictly work-related anymore either. Sure, he would still burst into Barba's office with case files and information, but he would also occasionally let himself in at the end of the work day just to chat, sometimes bringing dinner or a snack from the bakery with him. He was always met with some form of a grumpy welcome, though now it never quite reached Barba's eyes. The evening visits, although not every night, became the new norm for them, bringing about a sort of routine that seemed to benefit them both; Barba was there to offer an ear while Carisi helped ensure that Barba wouldn't stay at work too late too often. It was a good relationship between the two of them, a friendship they both needed and deserved.

But, of course, no good thing can last forever, at least not without a few bumps in the road.

It was a comfortably warm afternoon on which they decided to meet for lunch. It was a new thing for them, getting together periodically on their days off to hang out. It seemed to be a bit different if Carisi were being honest with himself. At first it had been a way to relax after a tough case or tough day. Now that they were hanging out when there were no cases to justify it, he felt even more relaxed. Like it wasn't just about Barba trying to be a good colleague anymore; he really seemed to enjoy Carisi's company. They would talk about more than work on those days and, truthfully, it felt even better to Carisi that their relationship seemed to be evolving. Into what, he couldn't quite get a read on, but he did like the direction it seemed to be going.

After lunch that day, they decided to walk around a bit with no particular destination in mind. They had gotten a few blocks away from the restaurant when Carisi heard it.

"Smitty?"

For a moment, he hadn't even noticed it. Then he caught to face of a man he remembered vaguely from the group he had joined undercover, looking at him expectantly.

"Holy shit, it _is_ you!" 

The world was suddenly light years away from him. The only thing he was completely aware of was the way his chest seemed to constrict as he vividly recalled some of the stories he'd had to listen to in that sick group. He thought, although he couldn't be completely sure at the time, that Barba had taken him by the elbow and steered him away, presumably to somewhere safe -- anywhere would do, so long as that man wasn't nearby any longer.

Wherever they wound up, it felt like Carisi had nearly lost the ability to breathe. The short, shallow breaths he could take in didn't do much to help bring him comfort or to bring him back to reality. Wherever Barba had steered him to and sat him down was so far away, even when Barba knelt down to bring himself into Carisi's line of sight. 

He was somewhat aware in the midst of it all that Barba had his hands on Carisi's knees. Slowly, the physical sensation, coupled with Barba's soft voice (even though it was decidedly muffled to Carisi in the beginning of the episode), brought him back to an awareness of his surroundings. 

"Sonny?" 

The reticent tone which spoke his name as though it were a question snapped him back. He gasped and blinked rapidly, hands coming up to grip at his hair as he tried to ground himself.

"B-Barba?" he asked, his own voice raspy and weak.

Gentle fingers worked to remove Carisi's hands from his hair before pulling them down, and Barba kept hold of them as he spoke. "Thank God..."

Carisi's throat suddenly felt tight. He tried to swallow, only to be met with a superficial lump. God he didn't know if he could handle crying in front of somebody else right now. 

"Sonny?" Barba prompted again. He waited for wet eyes to look at him. "It's safe now."

"Not... 's not," he spoke carefully, trying to keep any tears from falling. "I shouldn't still feel like this about... about Smitty--"

Barba's thumbs began running soothing circles over the backs of Carisi's hands. "Hey, hey now." He kept his voice as gentle as possible. "You don't have to feel anything about him. You can't help that."

"That's stupid." Carisi sniffled. He closed his eyes, wishing to god that the earth would open and swallow him whole before the tender words made him become even more of a fool in front of Barba. 

"It's okay to not be okay."

His breath hitched. He pulled his hands free to wipe at his eyes before the tear stains became evident. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. For a moment, Carisi let himself just relish in it. It was easy to do, so easy to just listen to Barba. But-- there was such an intense surge of _anger_ that suddenly hit him and made him completely forget that feeling of comfort.

Carisi shoved Barba's hand away and pushed himself to his feet. He felt a little unsteady and swayed for a moment before finding his footing. He felt so angry, so irate at himself for everything, but it was so much easier to blame somebody else, wasn't it?

"Just stop it!"

Barba looked rather caught off-guard and Carisi felt an immediate pang of regret for shouting, but he just couldn't help himself as he continued.

"Stop trying to help me all the time, would you?! It's bullshit and you know it! I should have gotten over this ages ago, but you keep making me talk about it and reopening the wound." Carisi paused to catch his breath, waiting for the other man to react, say something, do anything. Barba, however, seemed perfectly content to remain kneeling on the floor, silently and impassively watching Carisi shout and gesture as he paced the room. 

"Why the hell can't you just leave me alone? This isn't even that big of a deal, but you just keep inserting yourself into my life like I need to keep talking about it. It's not fair!"

With that final shout, Carisi's anger deflated. He sunk down onto the couch and -- when did they get to an apartment?

Barba sighed exasperatedly and groaned as he got up from the floor. "Good. I'm not sure how much longer I could have kept kneeling. I really am too old for it."

Carisi didn't rise at the chance to jokingly agree; instead, he stared miserably at the floor. Barba sat down next to him and covered the hand resting on Carisi's knee with his own. "Do you feel better now?"

"I feel like a dick now."

"Yes, well, you were kind of a dick."

"I'm sorry, I-- I understand if you don't wanna help me anymore."

Barba squeezed his hand just once. "You really are dramatic, you know that? If I stopped being friends with every person who ever yelled at me, I'd be a very lonely man."

Carisi looked at him, unconvinced. "Yeah, right. You don't have to pretend everything's still good between us."

"Well that's good. I hate pretending." Carisi tried to remove his hand from Barba's, but Barba held on firmly. "And I'm not pretending. My skin is much thicker than that, Sonny."

"... Why? I was such a dick."

"Mm, yes, we've established that." Barba laughed when Carisi shot him a dirty look. "You're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to feel however you want to feel. You apologized."

He shook his head. "No, I didn't. But I am, though! Sorry, I mean."

"Do tell me you'll write a book one day. That eloquence deserves to be shared with the world."

Carisi cracked a small smile. "I guess I deserve that."

Barba shrugged. "I'm always happy to put you in your place, detective."

"Ha. Thanks, counselor." He scrubbed at his eyes, brushing away the last of his sad-mixed-with-angry tears.

"... How are you feeling?"

"Other than like shit? Just great, thanks."

"I'm serious, Sonny."

"Oh." Carisi cleared his throat. "I'm just frustrated that I haven't gotten over it yet. I mean, it's been a couple of months now. I should be fine."

Barba nodded. "I understand how you feel, but you need to remember something."

"And what's that?"

Barba's free hand caressed his cheek. "You're so inherently good, Sonny. You've been working SVU for a while now and you're maintained what makes you a good man all this time. It hasn't been beaten down; you're a good person. That's why this is so difficult."

Carisi smiled tiredly. "Thanks, Barba."

"Anytime, Sonny. And can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, shoot. Just so long as I can ask you one too."

Barba made a show of rolling his eyes, though he was smiling. "Fine, whatever. Would you please just call me Rafael? We've been doing this too long for you to keep calling me Barba. I feel like I'm in a buddy cop movie."

Carisi chuckled. "Yeah, alright, fair. I can do that. Now, my turn."

"Go for it."

He gestured at what was clearly a living room (now that he had calmed down enough to really take in his surroundings). "Are we in your apartment? When did we get here?"

"Yes. We were only a few blocks away, so I thought we'd be better off somewhere private."

Carisi hummed, taking a moment to look at the deep colored couch, the matching coffee table and end tables, and the two book shelves. "It suits you."

"Thank you. I own it and everything."

He laughed "Yeah, okay. That explains the severe lack of television."

"I have a TV. It just so happens to be in my bedroom."

"Any chance I might get to see it?"

Barba snorted. "If you earn the privilege, maybe someday."

\---

A few more weeks went by without incident. Whenever Carisi and Barba got together after work or on their days off, it was much more purposeful. They took turns planning different outings beyond just sharing a meal, at least when time and work permitted. They still talked, of course, and both of them felt immensely more comfortable opening up personally to the other, but they had fun too. They hadn't had any formal discussion or anything, but if Carisi were a gambling man, he'd place good money on the fact that they had moved from the 'friendship' to the 'dating' phase of their relationship. 

Carisi felt better than he had in a long time. He couldn't say he was completely over the whole undercover incident, but he found himself thinking about it less and less. As he thought less of it, he spoke less of it too. For a brief moment, he'd been scared that he and Barba would run out of things to talk about, but that didn't seem to be the case. They were able to discuss just about anything, and Barba's genuine interest in what Carisi had to say never dissipated. 

They were physically close whenever they hung out, and they had even held hands a few times. The first time they did, it was clear that Barba had not been the hand holding 'type' but, for Carisi, he'd been willing to try. Now it got easier and more natural each time they did it. Beyond sitting physically closer and holding hands, though, neither man had attempted anything else yet.

It was getting cooler outside when they decided to make dinner together at Barba's place. It had been a relatively simple affair of spaghetti and meatballs and, to be honest, Carisi had done the majority of the cooking. Still, they'd both enjoyed the wine and the company. After cleaning up the dinner dishes, Carisi moved to go relax on the couch, but Barba caught his hand before he could step foot out of the kitchen.

Carisi grinned back at him. "Yeah?" 

He watched with keen interest as Barba's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Remember the TV?"

"The one in your bedroom?" Carisi shrugged. "Sure."

Barba lifted Carisi's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. "I think... maybe you've earned the privilege of seeing it."

Carisi's grin shifted into a genuine smile. "Oh yeah?"

Barba stepped forward, keeping hold of Carisi's hand as he lead him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. "Don't let it go to your head. This is purely selfish."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Rafael."

When they reached the bedroom, Carisi placed his hands on the other man's hips and carefully turned him around. They remained in the doorway as he lifted his hands from Barba's hips to his cradle his face. Carisi stared at him, his dopey smile back on his lips. Whereas Carisi seemed perfectly satisfied to stare, Barba grew impatient. He grabbed the front of Carisi's shirt and yanked him down, desperate lips finding the other man's. 

The initial frenzy of the kiss quickly eased when Carisi immediately returned it. It became soft and loving, and he felt as though he were going to burst right out of his chest because of it. When they finally separated, only to catch their breaths and nothing more, Carisi laughed and pressed his forehead against Barba's. 

"That was... amazing," Carisi muttered.

Barba huffed. "It's been killing me for _weeks_."

"What has?"

"Knowing what your lips taste like."

"And?"

"A little like marinara, I'm not gonna lie."


End file.
